


It Never Stopped

by beautifullyheeled



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-06-06 12:19:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6753529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beautifullyheeled/pseuds/beautifullyheeled
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock comes home to Baker Street hoping for forgiveness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Never Stopped

**Author's Note:**

> Notes:
> 
> This is a part of the Story a Day May Challenge over at storyaday.org
> 
> The prompt today was First Person. I hope I have not mangled the perspective.
> 
> This story takes place inside a 'verse I've been building for almost three years now.
> 
> Love and Light~ Bo

London Town. London. It has fallen and it has risen again numerous times, to live and breathe free air yet again. 

I am London today. 

Only being back these few days, being sequestered as I was, I was able to quickly learn two things:

John was well.  
John was a Hit Wizard.

I also learned through the ease of deduction that John was alone. This had me at once elated to find him so, but aching for him as well; he never did well in solitude. Not that he didn't have friends- well, when I say friends, I mean people that think they know John- it was that that he hadn't had lovers. 

Hadn't let anyone close to him. 

John Watson needed regular care and feeding. 

Who was caring for John?

It was my job to do so, he had said, and without me- he seems to be well, sharper, alive in a dangerously poised predator sort of way- he seemed alone. As I once was before we met. Before Hogwarts and the blasted war that raized our bridges and tore lives apart. 

My thoughts kept me company through many a night, even the ones I thought I was truly dead; especially then. Now, they keep me company as I come home.

The afternoon sun glints off of the windows in such a way that from the alley I cannot see in. I know he must be there. The air feels different. Electric. Humming at a frequency only John can attain. It intersects at the velocity of a bee's wing and that of a minuscule comet entering our atmosphere. This too, is John. The universe. My universe. It may sound expansive, but it is true. He reacquainted me of the solar system the night we met; how could he not be my center for all the goodness and warmth in him.

I can only hope that he forgives my absence. The worst of the worst I hunted; those beyond mania. Beyond fervor for Voldemort- those who used his name as a mere stepping stone- connections more important than the wizard himself. 

"John-" I whisper his name as I silence the bell, my senses honed in on the man seventeen steps away. He's made tea, possibly something sweet from Mrs. Hudson's is there. A treat for this auspicious date. 

His eyes are closed as I enter; he's almost peaceful. But I know the difference. He's moved to offer tea to a ghost. Once again, my heart aches for all that I am known for not having one. My fingers run along his as I take the offered tea from his hand.

"They say you miss the ones that touched you deepest most. How wrong they were." I had to breathe, to take the scent of home into my lungs. "You are buried with them, their memory, until you wake one morning and you aren’t. Do you remember telling me that?” 

I stepped closer having discarded my tea on a stack of books. "You were wrong, it never stopped."


End file.
